


Calm

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 01:08:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"'Do you like pretending I don’t get to you?'" Giriko sets out to break Justin's composure. Justin has other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shiny_Pichu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiny_Pichu/gifts).



Justin’s working when Giriko comes looking for him. Not that that stops the chainsaw or even gets him to hesitate much; the priest is  _always_  working. It’s not healthy, in Giriko’s opinion, and much more important than the blond’s health is Giriko’s own displeasure with the lack of attention.

“Hey.” Giriko leans against Justin’s shoulders, dropping all of his weight onto the priest so he rocks forward and the chainsaw can reach down to pull the papers in front of Justin away and up to his own eye level. “What are you doing?”

“Getting manhandled, apparently.” Justin recovers enough to shove back, pushing off the desk so Giriko has to step back to avoid the back of the blond’s head crushing his nose. “I  _was_  filling out a report for Lord Death.” He turns in his chair, though he doesn’t grab for the paper as Giriko was half-hoping he would. Still. His headphones are out, which is a good sign; if he really doesn’t want to be bothered they stay in, and his reaction would have been a lot less verbal and involve a lot more razor-edged blades along his arms.

Giriko grins, and tosses the paper over his shoulder to land disregarded on the floor. “Sounds boring. And unimportant.”

Justin rolls his eyes and sighs. “It is neither, though your opinion certainly  _could_  matter to people other than me. Leave me alone, Giriko.” He’s not smiling, but he’s not frowning yet, either, the line of true anger is still absent from between his eyes for all that he’s tipping his chin down to try and hide it. Which means Giriko’s nose is probably safe.

The chainsaw steps back in, leans against the back of the chair instead of Justin himself so he is exhaling hot against the priest’s skin. “You really want me to leave you alone?” He comes in closer, turns his head so his nose brushes against Justin’s instead of crushing it. Justin doesn’t pull away. “Lord Death must really be a slavedriver. You should have come over to  _my_  side instead of dragging me onto yours, at least mine knew how to have a good time.”

“Funny how they’re all dead, now,”Justin offers cooly. “And my sense of personal responsibility has nothing to do with Lord Death’s requests.”

“So you  _can_  take a break.” Giriko’s mouth is nearly against Justin’s now.

Justin doesn’t answer, but he still isn’t pulling away, and when Giriko reaches out to grab the back of his neck and pull their mouths together he can feel the curve of a half-repressed smile against the priest’s lips. When he bites not-very-gently on that curve Justin’s breath leaves his lungs in a huff, and Giriko takes advantage of the blond’s lips parting to slide his tongue into the warmth of the priest’s mouth. Justin doesn’t reach up to grab at Giriko himself, doesn’t even tip his head to accommodate the chainsaw’s movements, but he’s  _still_  not pushing Giriko away, and sometimes with Justin a lack of resistance is the most Giriko can get out of him.

He pulls back without relinquishing his hold on the blond’s neck, tugs Justin forward until the priest has to throw a hand out to catch himself on the back of his chair or fall forward. When Giriko looks at Justin’s face the priest’s blue eyes are perfectly clear, his expression utterly composed as if he has only just looked up from whatever boring work he was doing before, and Giriko hisses.

“ _Damn_  you.” When he bites this time he breaks the skin and the taste of Justin’s blood splashes over his tongue. Justin doesn’t even flinch, just licks his torn lip as soon as Giriko lets him go. “Do you  _like_  pretending I don’t get to you?”

“You’re awfully sure of yourself.” Justin moves when Giriko pulls on his wrist, comes around the edge of the chair towards the other man with what looks like perfect submission, but his eyes are sparkling with dark amusement. It’s infuriating, the more so because Giriko can feel that shadowed laughter setting his blood running hot in his veins. “Who said you get to me?”

“ _Fuck_  you,” Giriko says, pulls Justin in hard enough that the blond stumbles and has to catch himself against the chainsaw’s chest. “I damn well  _know_  I get to you, even if you like to play a fucking ice princess sometimes.”

“Mm,” Justin offers noncommittally. Giriko grabs a handful of his hair without letting go his too-tight grip on the priest’s wrist and pulls the blond’s head far back, and Justin doesn’t even laugh, just smirks and blinks at the ceiling. When Giriko presses his lips to the priest’s skin he can feel Justin breathing, can feel the faintest stutter of adrenaline under the pattern, but Justin’s still not  _saying_  anything, and though his body is starting to betray him Giriko wants to  _hear_ it.

He pulls back and lets his hold go, and Justin lifts his head as Giriko turns to drag him forcibly out of the room. “Come  _here_ ,” he hisses, and Justin comes, still offering that odd faux-obedience while withholding the shattered composure that Giriko  _wants_  with all the fire running through his blood.

Justin stops moving as soon as Giriko drops his hold. They end up just inside the doorway to the bedroom; Justin is as still and calm as if he is a doll, except for the amusement getting brighter in his eyes as he watches Giriko seethe. When Giriko grabs at the front of his robes and drags him in he comes, tips his head up against Giriko’s as if the chainsaw is kissing him with any gentleness and he doesn’t feel the cutting edge of teeth against his mouth or the slam of the wall against his shoulders as Giriko shoves him back.

“ _Fuck_  you,” Giriko says again when he pulls back enough to see what he’s doing as he pulls sharply at the priest’s clothes. “Lift your arms,  _damn_  you,” and Justin does. If he hadn’t Giriko was ready to cut his clothes off him, see if that would get him more of a reaction than the aggression on his form would; he still considers it for a moment before discarding the idea and the fabric in his hands in favor of reaching out for Justin’s body. The priest  _is_  responding, Giriko has to admit that much; he arches in expectantly for Giriko’s touch, curves in towards the chainsaw’s fingers pressing against the softness of his waist and the lines of his ribcage, and with the disguising cloth gone his dark pants are not doing much to cover the evidence of his arousal. When Giriko shoves back to pin Justin flat to the wall and brings his mouth in to cover the blond’s, Justin goes, parts his lips and lets Giriko’s tongue sweep possession inside his mouth, and when Giriko shoves his hips hard against the blond’s there’s a moment of impulsive response, Justin’s body shifting to press back instead of just accepting, and it sends a tiny surge of delighted adrenaline through Giriko’s head.

When he pulls back he’s grinning, and when he sees Justin’s face the blond is too, the expression so taut it looks like he might not be able to help himself, and Giriko is almost laughing as he sets his fingers against the priest’s neck and steers him towards the tangled sheets on the bed.

“Take your pants off,” he orders, letting go of Justin to work his own free. Justin drops to the edge of the bed and works as fast as Giriko does, so by the time Giriko has his own clothing free and turns back Justin is lying back over the mattress, arching his back up so his hips leave the support and he can slide his jeans free. The chainsaw makes a strangled sound at the way Justin is curving, like gravity is more a suggestion than a law, and the blond grins and tosses his pants aside before dropping back down to the sheets, stretching out slow and luxurious and  _deliberately_  provocative.

“Fuck,” Giriko spits. He can’t even wait to get onto the bed properly before his mouth is on the blond’s skin, licking at the sharp line of hipbone and the curve of Justin’s stomach rather than waiting to get to the priest’s mouth. Justin hisses at the contact, and Giriko can feel his muscles going taut under the sensation, but when he looks up hopefully those blue eyes are still clear and steady and the priest’s face is calm and unruffled by the irrepressible reactions of his body.

“I don’t  _get_  it,” Giriko says, sliding up Justin’s body while staying close enough that the blond can feel the friction of his skin pulling over the other’s. He comes in again to bite at the edge of Justin’s jawline, run his tongue against the priest’s earlobe, and Justin tips his head and breathes hard but doesn’t  _say_  anything. “Why are you so damn  _calm_  with me?”

“You think I’m calm?” Justin says. Calmly. Even when Giriko slides his hand hard along the blond’s side to drag his fingers over the priest’s cock Justin’s speech doesn’t so much as falter. “I’m flattered, really, that you think so highly of my composure.”

“Like  _that_ ,” Giriko growls through his teeth. He bites at Justin’s ear but the aggression doesn’t get a reaction and doesn’t make him feel any better. “It’s like you’re not even  _here_  right now.”

“But I  _am_  here.” Justin is teasing him, Giriko can hear the amusement pulling the words tight. “And I’m certainly responsive enough.” He bucks his hips up to press his cock harder against the chainsaw’s fingers. “Or is this not what you’re looking for?”

Giriko opens his mouth to respond before he sees that there’s no reasonable answer to that. “ _Fuck_  you,” he says instead, bites again to leave a mark against Justin’s shoulder, and comes up and away so he can reach for the lube. “You know damn well what I mean.”

“Hm.” Justin is looking up at the ceiling, smiling like he’s listening to a joke only he can hear. “I suppose I do, at that. Do you doubt my  _interest_?”

Giriko looks away from Justin’s face, hissing in undirected frustration, and reaches down to force Justin’s leg up and out of his way. Justin lets him, spreads his legs wide and angles his hips up, and that should be  _enough,_  the willingness implicit in the act ought to be  _enough_  to calm Giriko’s irritation.

“Because I certainly am,” Justin says, as if his movement wasn’t clear answer enough. “I want you to  _fuck_  me, Giriko, isn’t that what you want to hear?”

Giriko hisses again,  _angrier_  now than he was before, and pushes Justin’s leg up needlessly and uncomfortably far before he slides a slick finger inside the priest’s ass. Justin stops speaking for a moment, and for a minute Giriko thinks he’s done it, but then the blond takes a breath and keeps going and sounds very nearly as calm as he did before.

“It’s even true.” He’s smiling, still; that curve hasn’t left his mouth in minutes now. “I want you to fuck me into the mattress, fuck me until I can’t remember my name, until nothing in my whole world is important except for you  _not stopping_.” His breath hitches as Giriko shifts his hand but then he continues as if nothing has happened at all. Giriko can’t look away from his face or the move of his mouth around the words he’s saying. “I want you to bury your cock in me so I can feel every movement you make all down my spine and keep pounding me until I come just from youlooking at me. Are you going to keep fingerfucking me, or are you just going to admire the view?”

Giriko didn’t realize he had stopped moving until Justin speaks, and even as he flushes hot from self-consciousness and moves to thrust two fingers inside the priest Justin is going on. “You’ll need at  _least_  two fingers, you’re so fucking big.” It’s Giriko that chokes in reaction, not Justin, and even when the blond laughs he sure doesn’t  _sound_  like he’s got Giriko’s fingers inside him.

“I don’t --” Giriko starts, but Justin is shifting against his touch, not able to get much traction but doing his best to fuck himself on Giriko’s  _fingers_  while his gaze is still level and cool on the ceiling, and the chainsaw’s patience is entirely frayed through. “Fuck,” he says, and shoves his fingers in hard once more, hard enough that Justin rocks back a half-inch over the sheets, before he draws his hand free and comes in to set himself between Justin’s thighs.

“You’re don’t make any fucking sense,” he mutters. When he pushes Justin brings his legs up to his chest obligingly and tips his head down so at least he’s  _looking_  at the chainsaw, even if he still looks distantly intrigued rather than panting and desperate. “Either you’re lying or you’re putting on a hell of an act and I dunno why you’d bother.”

Justin’s forehead creases in confusion. “An  _act_?” Giriko reaches out to hold his weight on Justin’s shoulder and thrusts into the blond, and for a brief moment there’s not even the sound of breathing. He pauses halfway in, trying to catch his own breath, and Justin goes on. “What do you  _mean_ , Giriko, I’m being perfectly sincere.”

“Like hell.” Giriko comes the rest of the way forward and the tight heat of Justin around him is almost enough to convert his frustration into pure desire. It  _is_  enough to do away with his filter, so what he says is, “You’re being calm on purpose, just to irk me.”

“Is that the problem?” Justin asks, and blinks. The movement takes the careful control with it, and when he opens his eyes the blue is hazy and unfocused and  _desperate_ ,  _wanting_. His hands come up to grab at Giriko’s neck and waist, he rocks his hips up even though Giriko can’t  _go_  any farther, and when he speaks every word is underlined with anguished  _need_. “Giriko,  _please_ ,  _move_  don’t just  _stay_  there.”

Giriko obeys, shocked into action by Justin’s reaction as much as by his own need. Justin takes a deep shuddering breath as he draws out and  _screams_  when Giriko thrusts forward, his whole face dropping into the almost-agony of excessive pleasure, and the chainsaw can’t  _breathe,_  he can’t  _think._ Justin drops his hold on Giriko’s hip to wrap his fingers around himself and pull needy sensation over his own cock, and after a moment Giriko shifts his weight so he can pull Justin’s fingers free and replace them with his own. Justin gasps and bucks up into the other man’s touch and Giriko groans at the feel of the priest moving around him, he can feel Justin’s length jerk under his touch and the blond isn’t going to last long at  _all_.

Justin blinks again, and his eyes clear. He tips his head, curious, and his words when he speaks are level again, perfectly calm although Giriko can still feel his body responding desperately under his fingers. “Is that what you wanted?”

There is a moment of still silence, as Giriko gapes down at Justin’s face and his thoughts stall out on the confusion and whiplash reaction to the priest’s words. Then Justin starts to laugh, keeps laughing even when Giriko growls and drops his hold on the blond’s cock.

“Was that an act too?” he demands, and Justin is legitimately laughing, gasping too hard for air to form a response. When the chainsaw pulls out he can see the blond flinch at the sudden jerk of sensation but he keeps giggling, high and genuine and  _amused_. Giriko is spitting in anger and Justin’s lack of resistance when he grabs the blond’s hips and flips him over is almost worse than any sort of fight would be, but then he gets up on his knees and reaches down the line of Justin’s back to shove his shoulders down into the mattress, and that does help. The angle muffles the last flood of laughter from the blond and does  _amazing_  things to his back, and when Giriko thrusts back inside Justin with one fast stroke he can see the blond’s body jerk in reaction more than he can hear the startled intake of breath.

“You’re gonna have to wait,” he growls. “Just for that, you’ll have to wait until I’m  _done_.”

He half-expects more of that taunting calm, but Justin just whimpers, “ _Yes_ ,” and brings his hands up over his head, offering his wrists to Giriko to hold in place. The chainsaw laughs sharply and accepts, locking his fingers around the other’s narrow wrists and then pressing back down on angular shoulderblades. Between the pressure on Justin’s shoulders and a hand at his hip it’s easy to hold the blond in place while Giriko thrusts into him. The angle is good for Giriko but he knows from experience that it’s  _great_  for Justin, and all the priest’s assumed confidence is gone now. Justin is gasping irregular breaths and moaning with every motion of Giriko’s hips, and Giriko can feel his fingers flex uselessly against his shoulders, gaining enough traction to pull desperate scratches over his skin.

“Are you sorry?” he asks, and Justin takes a breath and says, “ _No_ ,” and Giriko was expecting that answer, honestly, and all he can do is laugh and thrust forward again, hard enough that Justin shifts forward in spite of the chainsaw’s hands steadying the blond.

“Yeah,” he says, and he’s sounding breathless now too, though he still retains the upper hand over Justin’s current state. “Yeah, I wasn’t really thinking you would be.” His anger is burning off into pleasure, now, aided in the transition by the shift of Justin’s muscles as he half-heartedly struggles against Giriko’s hold and the audible whine of the priest’s breathing. “You weren’t lying, were you?”

“No,” Justin manages. “No, I -- I want --  _this_ , don’t  _stop_  -- Giri -- Giriko.”

Giriko groans. The sound of his name broken apart by Justin moaning goes straight through his self-control to flare his blood hot, and he can feel the rhythm of his hips break apart into desperation as his body tries to seek out friction and heat at once. Then it’s on him, incoherence spilling into his tongue and breath and movements all at once, so his hold on Justin’s wrists go loose as the fingers against the blond’s waist spasm tight, and he thrusts forward and comes, pleasure spilling through his veins until it’s all he can do to keep his balance over his knees on the mattress.

He doesn’t think about Justin for a moment, doesn’t think about anything at all while he takes a breath and sighs in satisfaction. Then  _Justin_  takes a breath, and it’s more of a whine than a proper inhale, and when Giriko looks down the blond has his fingers locked behind his head and his shoulders are shaking with the effort of keeping them off himself.

Giriko laughs. When he slides free he can see the tremor of sensation run straight down Justin’s spine, and when he drops sideways he has to pull Justin’s hip before the priest collapses and turns himself to fit his shoulders against Giriko’s chest. The chainsaw comes up on an elbow, looks down at Justin’s face as he trails his fingers over the blond’s hip. Justin’s hands are still where they were, his eyes utterly unfocused, his mouth open and gasping for air like he’s drowning, and he barely reacts when Giriko says, “ _God_  you’re hot.”

The chainsaw brings his fingers down from the blond’s hip, ghosts them over the front of Justin’s thigh. “I feel like you owe me some sort of revenge for that, you know.” Justin is shaking against him, like all the composure from before was a loan that is coming due now. “What if I just didn’t get you off at all?” Justin shuts his eyes, and moans in desperate refusal of the possibility, and Giriko chuckles and tips his head down to lick the back of Justin’s ear.

Then he closes his fingers around Justin’s cock, all at once with no forewarning, and he can feel the blond’s jerk of reaction all against his body. Giriko grins down even though Justin’s eyes are squeezed shut and the blond can’t see him, and when he purrs, “I  _want_  to see you come,” the priest’s mouth comes open and he groans so Giriko’s not at all surprised when he feels the spasm of orgasm ripple through Justin’s form.

He waits until Justin is gasping in some approximation of a normal rhythm before he lets his hold go and bites not-quite-gently at the blond’s ear.

“Were you trying to needle me?” he growls in a rough whisper.

He can feel Justin laugh more than he can hear it. When he speaks the blond sounds breathless and shaky and  _satisfied_ , the sound soaking straight through his speech. “When am I  _not_  needling you, Giriko?”

Giriko considers this for a moment, considers biting Justin’s ear again. But he ends up laughing, and Justin grins and twists around to kiss his jawline.


End file.
